


A Night in the life

by sherlocked221



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Car Sex, Driving, M/M, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: John wants to go out,Neither John nor Paul knows where to goThey drive, they talk, they listen to themselves on the radioAll in all, its a nice night.





	A Night in the life

**Author's Note:**

> Microphones? Was that a thing back in the sixties, those small ones that you'd get on TV shows or stuff. Like, I'm not expecting them to be that small and concealed... ah the problems with being born in this generation.

“D’you know what I want?” John whispered into Paul’s ear. Paul looked at him with encouraging eyes, knowing that he was unable to respond at that moment. He had a microphone attached to his collar and John was just out of its range, he wasn’t no matter what direction he moved his head in. He noticed John lick and bite his bottom lip, a habit that had only become apparent to Paul this year.

“I’m bored, I want to get out of here.” John continued, his voice quiet, breathy. Paul was sure that he should be reading between the lines of what his bandmate was saying, but he tried to ignore it.

“We should just go, after this. Get out of here. Go for a drive. You fancy it?”

A girl in a smart shift dress with short sleeves walked over to the two men and began to fit John with a microphone.

“Don’t talk too loud at the moment, or they’ll hear you on stage.” She warned. John nodded her away once she’d clipped the thing to the collar of his blazer. Paul knew at once that he’d ignore her and pressed a finger to his lips in hope of keeping the talkative John quiet for long enough. Then he thought of something that might shut him up.

“Alright.” He breathed, turning his head so far back and pulling his shirt forward so to keep the words and the microphone as far away from each other as possible, “After this, we’ll go, I promise.”

* * *

 

Had Paul forgotten? Or was the promise an empty one to keep John quiet? John was waiting by the exit of the building, watching the bandmate of his attention talking to another. He and Ringo rarely spoke for so long, John was sure, yet all of a sudden, they thought to have a lengthy discussion on, what John could make out as, the food in the place. Was that _really_ such an interesting topic?

Finally, it got too much. John waltzed over so that he encroached on the conversation from behind Paul. He smiled at Ringo friendly, as he purposefully ran the side of his index finger down Paul’s spine. It was a wake-up call, a possessive reminder.

“We all ok over here?” John chirpily asked.

“Yeh. We were going to…” Paul said, remembering what he had promised to do. He pointed towards the door and started to walk there with John still touching the small of his back.

“The car’s outside?” Ringo called after them.

“Yeh.” John called back.

* * *

 

George and Ringo got in opposite Paul and John. John now had his hand beside Paul’s thigh, which felt very deliberate.

“Anything you want to do tonight?” Ringo asked, hopefully. It seemed he was in a party mood that night. John and Paul shared a glance, wondering what lie to come up with so that they couldn’t make it.

“What did you have on your mind?” John inquired, biding his time to think. Ringo shrugged his shoulders and looked away, off into the fast approaching evening in the window. He lit up a cigarette in a strop.

“Well, if you wanted to do something, you have to come up with it.”

John felt Paul’s hand drop onto his. An accident, as he drew it away seconds later, but he looked to see what Paul wanted. When the other boys weren’t looking, Paul smiled. He knew that he and John had the night to themselves.

* * *

 

“What did you want to do?” Paul asked as he slammed the front passenger door closed behind him. John twisted the keys into the car to start up the engine and pulled away from the street side. What time was it? Not that late, not as late as they were expecting. Not at all the hours they usually went out clubbing until.

“I wanted to be with you. Now where can we do that?”

Paul felt as though this conversation was about as pointless as that which they’d had with Ringo not an hour before. He sunk down into his seat and considered a cigarette. “You tired?”

John shook his head before licking his bottom lip again. Was it some self-confidence thing? Paul wondered. “Not at all. Hand me some gum.” Paul stuck his hand into the door storage thing and popped a small slap of gum into John’s mouth, feeling his moist breath on his hand. He took some himself. He figured it was healthier than smoking.

“Let’s just drive then.”

“Just drive?”

“I don’t care where to.”

“Neither do I.”

* * *

 

On the motorway, John didn’t have to use the gearstick as frequently as he did on the small, winding, residential roads of Liverpool. He rested his left hand on Paul’s thigh and dragged him closer. Paul managed to place his head on John’s shoulder.

“Was this what you had in mind?” Paul asked over the fuzz of the bad radio signal. It had been funny, one of their songs had come on the radio and they sung to it. It felt almost as though they were not that band, they weren’t the Beatles. They felt like fans, trying to sing along. Strange what time out from fame can do.

John nuzzled Paul’s hair, “Not really. But I didn’t have just taking you into some room and having you there in my mind, alright. I just wanted to be… alone.”

Paul laughed, “Don’t tell me that you never thought of that.”

John crumbled and sighed, “Ok, so I expected it to go that way, but that’s because we’re shit as picking what to do. This is nice.” The both nodded against each other, Paul using the agreeing movement to clamber closer to his bandmate. He had his hand, his left hand, on John’s thigh, feeling it tense and move, enclosed in a thin layer of smart fabric.

“Are you tired yet?”

“Nope. Sleep if you like, I’ll keep driving.”

“Not tired,” Paul muttered, his eyes slowly closing.

* * *

 

Paul woke up feeling as though something was missing. He panicked, thinking it was John, but he could feel John behind him. In fact, that was a little odd. He could feel John’s legs either side of him, his chest against his back rising and falling slowly and his head was resting on Paul’s shoulder. Paul’s head was slung backwards to lie against John’s opposite shoulder.

What seemed to be missing was the feeling of movement. The car engine was off, they weren’t going anywhere, they were parked. The radio was off too. Paul looked out the windows to see if he could gauge where they were, but it was too dark. He suddenly became aware of John’s hands wrapped around him. Now, if there hadn’t been a nicer time they’d spent together.

“John,” Paul hissed as though they were in a movie theatre. Why was it he always felt as though he had to whisper at night? “John,” He repeated a little louder. John came to.

“Ok?”

“Yeh. Where are we?”

“Just parked up for a bit. I got tired. And you looked so very cute all curled up against me, I wanted a proper hug.” He squeezed his arms around Paul, “Wanna get going?”

“Want me to drive?”

* * *

 

They had not moved. Apparently, they’d go in a moment and it never happened. John was too happy enveloping Paul with his body. Paul was only too happy to be the recipient of this attention. They talked for a little while, then the conversation steamed up.

“You know what naughty things us teenagers get up to in cars?” John joked, running his hands awfully close to Paul’s crotch. Paul even sighed at the touch.

“Teenagers? You realise we’re over 20. We’re young men.” Paul insisted. John was laughing, resisting the urge to lick Paul’s ear, as he was in the perfect position to do so. He could also see those pretty cheeks of his burning pink. He wanted to kiss those too. He wanted to kiss every inch of Paul’s body that he could see.

“Says the boy who could get caught in a school and be put in detention because they would wonder why you’re not in class.”

“Fuck off, John.” Paul lightly elbowed the older boy in his ribs to which John locked his arms around Paul’s to prevent him from using them.

“Don’t you want to know what dirty boys get up to in cars, Macca?”

* * *

 

The position wasn’t so fulfilling. John didn’t mind that he wasn’t getting much more action other than Paul thrusting his hips into his hand, subsequently rubbing that sexy Macca ass into his crotch, but what really bothered him was how little he could see. He wanted to see Paul’s face, to see what he was touching, to see the effect he was having on Paul.

“Get up.” He ordered. Paul didn’t stop his frantic movements, so John removed his hand.

“Why did you stop?” Paul whined.

“I said ‘get up.’”

“Why?”

“Just… will you?” John pushed Paul up so that the younger boy was on his knees in the passenger seat. He then got in a similar stance and ordered that Paul lie down. It was difficult, but they got there, John on top with his legs in all sorts of cervices. _It would’ve been easier in the back._

John unzipped his trousers, just as he had Paul’s, and took both himself and his bandmate in hand. They moaned together.

“T-telling me this w-wasn’t… ah… what you wanted tonight?” Paul said between gasps.

“Not how I envisioned it, but I’m not complaining.” He replied, then quickly added, “I just like being with you Paulie.”

* * *

 

Trousers back on, shirts done up and shoes pulled onto feet, the two boys started back on their journey. John insisted on driving again, so Paul set up shop right beside him.

“Wasn’t bad, hu?” John laughed, turning on the radio with his idle hand. Paul tuned it for him.

“We’ll have to do this again.”

They looked down the dark stretch of road, street lights barely making it any more visible. Paul had no idea how far they’d gone and he didn’t care how far it would be back. It could take hours. He was content in being- even in silence- with John.

The radio cracked their song, ‘I Feel Fine’ and they glanced at each other, smiling. For once, they were not John Lennon and Paul McCartney, song writing duo from The Beatles who’d won the hearts of girls everywhere. They were John and Paul, the kids from Liverpool, listening to some band they aspired to be one day.

“Eppy’s gonna kill us for being so late.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

Neither of them did.


End file.
